522nd Citadel Witches : Far East Conflict
by BookmarkAHead
Summary: While much of the world's attention is focused on the successes of the JFWs in the European theatre, a new Neuroi threat has appeared in the eastern waters of Asia, prompting the formation of a new JFW: the 522nd Citadel Witches. These are the chronicles of the 522nd and their lives, both in combat as well as how they grow as a squadron day by day. (OC squadron - contains yuri)


_296__th__ Royal Highlanders base, Halifax, Nova Scotia, Farawayland_

_[522 – Prologue]_

It would seem that the high, piercing sounds of bagpipes that began that dreary morning had enough power to tear at the clouds, causing a light drizzle to leak forth, falling to earth and dashing against the uniform or boot of the marching soldiers far below.

The kilted soldiers paid the falling water no heed, nor did they show any discomfort to the pipes, which had been joined by the thumping of the bass & tenor drums, as well as the sharp tapping of the snares. Instead they took the music to heart, letting it guide their steps across the pavement in perfect unison, boots tapping smartly as they secretly reveled in the sound of Caledonia behind their professional, neutral expressions. Their kilts swayed hypnotically as they matched step with the beat of the drum.

The common civilian may not take a liking to the drone of the pipes that now shattered the morning air, being unaccustomed to such a noise, but the soldiers here took it as a call, filling them with bravery even against the tremendous enemies they would all have to face in the near feature. Both the battle-hardened troops as well as those men and women who were still wet behind the ears all knew that many of them put on the frontlines may never return at all, but Caledonian pipes had a way of inspiring courage they never knew they possessed, even until death.

They also knew that the world needed as many able bodied soldiers as it could get. The Neuroi invasion had been devastating, with thousands of square kilometers of land being stripped of resources, even consumed entirely, to fuel the Neuroi war machine. Casualties mounted very quickly against the humans, and sometimes the victories of a successful attack or defense of a position didn't feel like victories at all.

However, many successes in the European theatre had shown that the people of Earth had gained their footing, and were slowly but surely pushing the invaders back and making their way back to Berlin. The powerful forces of the Witches played no small part in their success, for a single girl brought more effective firepower than an entire squadron of aircraft, also being much more agile and able to conjure up magical powers to stand toe to toe with the enemy.

High above, from atop the base's main building, one such girl watched the marching soldiers with interest through bright blue eyes. With one boot planted firmly on the ledge, she appraised the contingent of soldiers down below as she played with her light brown ponytail, tied on the left of her head with a green ribbon. Her scarlet red scarf danced lazily in the breeze behind her, dotted with small dark spots of moisture from the rain.

Checking the horizon, her smile grew as she spotted the convoy of ships floating out in the ocean, and felt a rising excitement at the prospect of seeing the world again. She was no stranger to combat, as she had fought the Neuroi before, even getting a fair share of her own kills whilst battling over the Atlantic as a convoy guard. While her kill count was far lower than those of the legendary Karlsland Witches, she still managed to earn a few medals and procure the title of an ace.

But this time, she was finally getting reassigned to an actual Joint Fighter Wing across the world. As she observed the men and women below beginning to load supplies and armour onto the ships below, she suddenly remembered the few stops she had to make before she left.

Stepping back from the edge, she stretched her arms out with a happy sigh, and after smoothing out her blue Air Force tunic and straightening her garrison cap, she turned around and reentered the building, quickly descending the steps.

Although it was still early morning, the base bustled with activity as all personnel readied the ships for departure. A fair number of Liberion and Britannian ships had arrived off the shores of the Halifax base, and were waiting for their Faraway Land counterparts to join the convoy and make the journey to Europe. Personnel rushed all over the base, preparing for both soldier and supply to be loaded onto the ships.

In the past, it used to be just a Britannia-Farawayland convoy that would make the trek, but ever since what was now called "Neuroi's 2nd Golden Time", Farawayland's southern neighbours, the Liberions, had joined them instead of striking out on their own and being subsequently wiped out by seaborne Neuroi.

Many soldiers moved to the side as she made her way down to the ground, offering salutes to her as she passed. She returned many of them with a smile and a wave, despite not knowing most of them. They all recognized her though, as Witches were somewhat famous around the world, and seeing one brought great safety.

Turning down one last hallway, she pushed open the door to her commander's office. It was a moderately sized room, with maps and intel hung on the walls, confirming the everlasting strategic struggles that the higher ups faced. Dozens of markers dotted the Mercator projection, pointing out friend and foe alike and where they stood in the grand scheme of things. In particular, large, menacing black dots denoted the presence of major Neuroi concentrations.

Closing the door behind her, she strode to a stop, went to attention, and snapped a sharp salute with precision.

"Flying Officer Aya Levere reporting, ma'am!" she barked out.

An older woman in her thirties turned away from a large world map mounted on the wall and smiled at her as she returned the salute. "At ease, Levere." Making her way over to her desk, Commander Euna Ross began looking for something in one of the many filing cabinets, speaking over her shoulder as she did so. "So today's the day, huh? Ready to go, soldier?"

"Yes ma'am!" Aya smiled broadly as she dropped her salute.

"That's what I like to hear! Ah!" Ross made a small sound of triumph as she pulled out the folder she was looking for, "You're going a long way from home. But … I'm kind of jealous. It's really warm where you're going." Opening up the folder, she sat on the edge of her desk, her body facing Aya as she studied the files. A picture stood on her desk, showing a younger version of her with a group of girls, smiling cheerfully; victorious Witches of the past Neuroi war.

"Right then! You'll be leaving with your usual ship, the HMCS _Quebec_, and you will take up regular convoy defense duties alongside Pilot Officer McKinney of Liberion, with Lieutenant King of Britannia as your commanding officer," Ross read out, meeting Aya's eyes as she did so. Upon getting a nod from her subordinate, she continued, "A Karlsland convoy will then meet yours near Gallia, and HMCS _Quebec_ will split off once they reach their destination. Finally you head all the way to Asia, and report to Commander Lehtinen and join your new JFW in Hainan."

She closed the folder, looking up and smiling. "Understand?"

"Yes ma'am!" Aya replied happily, flashing a "V" with her fingers.

"Good." Pushing herself off the desk, she went and returned the folder to its proper place before standing in front of Aya. "I'm sure the girls here will miss you and your … odd ways, Ms. Matchmaker."

The brown haired girl giggled, "They'll realize their love someday …" She quickly turned her thoughts to other things, before her fantasies could make her nose bleed all over the Commander's floor. Again.

"Maybe so!" Euna laughed before sticking her hand out. Aya took it and gave it a firm shake. "Give 'em hell, Levere." They saluted one another, and she turned away with a smile, "Now get outta here, you've got work to do! Flying Officer Levere, DIS-MISSED."

Aya spun on her heel, "See you again, Commander! Thanks!" she tossed over her shoulder, before making her way back out into the building, a bounce in her step.

With that last debrief said and done, there was only one last place to go before she left. Making a right turn, she headed towards the hangar. The building was considerably quieter now, as everything was either on the ship, or standing outside waiting to board. The clouds were clearing, and small spots of sunlight were beginning to show through, ready to dry the world.

Aya burst out the doors of the building. There was energy in the air, and each breath of fresh air just brought more life to everything. She headed to the large building that served as one of the base's hangars, waving at the mechanics who sat outside taking a break from fixing, building, and improving. She had already transferred her belongings to her quarters aboard the HMCS _Quebec_ ahead of time, and all that was left to retrieve were the two most important things for a Witch.

The HMCS _Quebec _stood proudly in the harbor, 8800 tons and 163m of steel, the decks bristling with naval and anti-air guns alike. She was the pride of the Farawayland Navy as the largest and most powerful of their ships, and her crew comprised of members representing every province of the nation. It was Aya's home away from home for many escort missions, and every time she drank in the sight of the hulking cruiser, she felt a twinge of pride.

The ship had finished loading, and was now pulling away from the docks, knowing full well it would soon be joined by its Witch.

Making her way inside the large building and around the mechanical equipment, she was unsurprisingly greeted by the sight of a woman sitting by her Striker launch terminal, hands folded in her lap peacefully. The woman, dressed in a similar blue Air Force uniform, rose to her feet at the sight of Aya, smiling.

"Green? I think the red one suits you more." Alice Levere chuckled amusedly as she approached, "Or try blue maybe? Air Force pride?" She pointed at her own hair, which was tied back with a blue ribbon matching her eyes.

"I thought I'd try this one for once!" Aya smiled back at her mother, reaching up to flick at the green ribbon that held her side ponytail in place. "But yeah, I think the red one might be a bit better," she conceded, swiftly exchanging it with her usual red ribbon and stowing the green in her tunic pocket.

Alice just smiled and pulled her daughter into a tight hug. Having been a Witch in the past, she was well aware of all the dangers and destruction the Neuroi brought. But she wasn't all too worried; Aya had grown up into a fine Witch, far better than she herself had been, and was more than capable of taking care of herself. Still, a mother was certainly allowed to worry about her child.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" she said softly, drawing back and looking warmly into her daughter's eyes.

"Of course, mom." Aya replied, smiling before kissing her mother on the cheek, "Love you!"

Alice laughed as she kissed her daughter on the forehead and released her. Not many words were needed; all the long talks had been done beforehand. "Well, good luck in Hainan. If you see your other "mother" and her explorers, tell her that I'd appreciate a visit sometime!" She shook her head with a smile, "You act just like her sometimes."

"Aww, you make me blush." Aya sang out, striding over to the terminal and flipping a switch. There was a hum of mechanical parts as the device opened up and produced two sleek, shining grey Strikers of the Supermarine Seafire model. "I'll be sure to let her know that her dear wingmate misses her."

The brown haired Witch removed her boots, and after securing them temporarily to the back of her grey belt, vaulted into her Strikers, feeling her legs being shunted off to a pocket dimension as they were bathed in the cyan magical light of the armoured legs. Immediately she summoned her magic, causing the white ears and tail of her arctic fox familiar to sprout from her head and tailbone respectively.

Her Strikers roared in response to the magic from her body, causing them to glow blue. The wings slammed open and locked into flight position from their folded storage position, and propellers made from pure energy unfurled from the lower portion of the fuselage, giving a dull roar as they spun up in preparation for the flight.

After checking that everything was functioning fine with her Strikers, Aya tapped a button on the terminal, opening up yet another panel. From there, a small platform projected out and presented her with her dear friend; a Mk.2 Bren light machine gun, the mirrored model for her left handedness. She admired it for a second, enjoying the look of the sleek weapon before scooping it up and slinging it over her shoulder, enjoying its comforting weight.

The terminal, having sensed the Strikers reach full power, released its clawed hold on them, and Aya floated forwards slowly, hovering a foot or two above the hangar floor. Alice gave a playful slap on her daughter's rear, surprising her. "Be good!"

Aya rolled her eyes good naturedly, "How lewd." She flashed a smile and victory sign, "See you later, mom." Upon receiving a smile in return, she turned towards the open hangar door, ready to go. Channeling her magic, she gunned her Strikers, and roared out of the hangar into the now clear blue sky, reveling in the rush of both wind against her and anticipation inside her.

As she drank in the sight of the departing ships in the clear morning, the wind carried the sound of music from beneath her, as the pipes of Caledonia sang their farewell and good wishes to those who have bravely accepted to stand on guard. With a small smile, she gunned herself towards the convoy, ready for a new tomorrow.

_[522 – Prologue]_

_Hello. After a year or so of my OC squadron existing, I've finally started telling their story. I'm not as great of a writer I'd like to be at this point, but I hope you enjoy. _

_Thanks! OK! Let's become better friends tomorrow!_

_Notes:_

_Caledonia = Scotland_


End file.
